


moonlight

by arysa13



Series: Bridgerton Kink Meme 2021 [1]
Category: Bridgerton (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Incest, Smut, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:28:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29573202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arysa13/pseuds/arysa13
Summary: Benedict shows Eloise why she should want to get married.
Relationships: Benedict Bridgerton/Eloise Bridgerton
Series: Bridgerton Kink Meme 2021 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2172636
Comments: 3
Kudos: 47
Collections: Bridgerton Kinkmeme - Issue 01 - 2021





	moonlight

**Author's Note:**

> written for the bridgerton kink meme (which is still happening btw so go check it out!)

Sneaking out. A swing. A cigarette. It’s tradition by now. There are no spoken words between them, just an understanding that this is their spot, their tradition. Eloise has never felt more comfortable with anyone than she does with Benedict. Her sisters say Colin is their favourite brother, but for Eloise it’s Benedict, always Benedict.

They sit in comfortable silence side by side on the swings, the cigarette they passed back and forth in ashes beneath their feet now. Eloise doesn’t ever want it to change. Doesn’t want these late-night heart-to-hearts to stop. Yet she knows they will, knows she can’t stay frozen in time forever.

Anthony’s recent marriage is proof of that. A year ago she couldn’t picture her eldest brother settling down, and now he’s married, stupidly devoted to his new wife. Eloise doubts she’ll ever feel that way about anyone.

And what happens when Benedict decides it’s time to marry? What happens then? Where does that leave her?

“You’re awfully quiet,” Benedict muses.

“Just wool-gathering,” Eloise sighs.

“And you’re not voicing every thought that pops into your mind? How odd,” he laughs.

“Well, if you must know, I was thinking about you getting married.”

Benedict’s smile drops. “Did you have someone in mind?”

“Perhaps Philippa Featherington? Or better yet, Lady Featherington? She’s widowed now, you know,” Eloise teases.

Benedict rolls his eyes. “And perhaps you can marry Daphne’s castoff, Nigel Berbrooke.”

“I’m not likely to marry, and if I was, it certainly would not be Nigel Berbrooke,” Eloise scoffs.

Benedict studies her for a moment, considering her words. “You really don’t think you’ll ever marry?”

“I really don’t see the point.”

He smirks. “No, you wouldn’t. But trust me, there are certain things you may not wish to miss out on.”

Eloise raises an eyebrow at his moonlit profile. “Oh, I know about all that,” she tells him. “About _making love_ ,” she says, drawing the words out to better shock him.

He chokes on nothing, whipping his head to face her. “You—what?”

Eloise shrugs. “Francesca and I paid a maid to tell us. But honestly it doesn’t seem like I’m missing out on all that much. A man grunting on top of me until he shoots some sort of sticky liquid inside me? What’s enjoyable about that?”

“That’s not all it is,” Benedict huffs, and Eloise wonders if she’s offended him. “It’s pleasurable. And it doesn’t necessarily—it’s not—” he stammers, then falls silent, blushing, maybe realising he shouldn’t actually be discussing this with his eighteen-year-old sister.

“What?” Eloise pushes him. “I’m intrigued now.”

Benedict swallows. “You must never tell anyone we talked about this.”

“Have I ever betrayed your secrets before?”

He doesn’t look at her as he speaks. “It’s not all about the end result. About the _sticky liquid_ as you call it. For it to be pleasurable for a woman—it’s all about touch. The man’s—” he gestures to his crotch.

“Cock,” Eloise fills in.

“You know that word?”

“I listen.”

Benedict sighs. “The man’s cock doesn’t have to be involved for _you_ to get pleasure out of it. He can use his hands. His mouth.”

Eloise shivers, and she has an odd fluttery feeling in her nether regions.

“And does the man get pleasure out of it if his cock isn’t involved?”

“Sometimes.”

Eloise licks her lips. She cannot explain what she says next “Show me.”

“What?” Benedict responds quickly. And yet he doesn’t seem as shocked as he should be. Like he was already thinking about it. “I can’t do that. You’re my sister. And an unmarried virgin.”

“And no one will ever know about it. Just us. Just another secret between the two best-looking Bridgerton siblings.”

Benedict sighs, as if he’s being manipulated, as if he’s resigned to his fate. But when he slides off the swing to his knees in front of her, his eyes are alight with excitement.

“Just this once,” he cautions. “And no one ever knows.”

Eloise nods her agreement. Her heart races as Benedict lifts her skirts, dragging the hem up past her knees, up her thighs, further, further, until she’s exposed to him. His eyes drop between her legs, to the patch of dark curls there. Eloise flushes at his reverent stare.

“Hold this,” he says, his voice strangely hoarse. Eloise takes her skirts from his hands, holding them up at her hips. Benedict looks back up at her. “You’re sure about this?”

Eloise nods again, though she’s nervous, though she’s not entirely sure what he’s about to do. She only knows there’s some burgeoning anticipation inside her that she needs to follow, to sate her curiosity.

Benedict places his hands on her thighs, his touch warm. He slides one upwards towards the apex, and then he’s lightly caressing her _there_ with the tips of his fingers.

“Sit forward a little,” he instructs, and Eloise shuffles forward on the swing. His thumb slips between the folds, and she squirms. He flicks his eyes up to hers.

“What is it?” she asks. Why can’t he just get on with it?

He clears his throat. “You’re—you’re uh. Wet.”

“Is that bad?” Eloise asks anxiously. This would be an interesting way to find out she’s dying or something.

Benedict shakes his head. “It just means—I’m just surprised, is all. That you’re aroused.”

“Oh,” Eloise says, flushing. Is that what this feeling is? Arousal?

Benedict averts his eyes again, focusing back on the task at hand. Eloise watches, transfixed as his fingers stroke her most intimate place. He finds a spot—something sensitive and throbbing, and Eloise gasps as he circles it. Her breathing quickens as he rubs over it, over and over, and a small whimper escapes her mouth.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he whispers.

“Yes,” Eloise breathes. All too soon, he moves his hand away, lower, and Eloise feels her stomach drop in disappointment.

His finger finds her opening then—she can feel him there, his fingertip slotted just inside.

“Oh,” she gasps. He works his finger inside her, filling her.

“You’re very tight,” he says. “Does it hurt?”

Eloise shakes her head frantically. “No.” It’s far from painful. She groans as another finger joins the first, and her breath is coming out shaky and laboured.

Benedict’s fingers grip her thigh tightly, and he leans down to press a kiss against her soft skin. And then he starts moving his fingers, pumping them inside her, while his thumb finds that first sensitive spot.

“Benedict,” she whines. “It feels so good— _oh._ ”

She can feel something building inside her. She’s hurtling towards the edge of a canyon, climbing higher and higher, her thoughts and words becoming incoherent. She drops her dress and clutches the ropes of the swing, her hips arching towards her brother as her continues to finger her.

“That’s it,” Benedict tells her. “That’s it, you’re almost there.”

“Don’t stop,” she pants. “Please. I’m—I’m—”

“Come on my fingers, come on,” he urges, and though she’s never heard the phrase before, she seems to know exactly what he means.

He crooks his fingers inside her, presses hard with his thumb, and then she’s falling apart, shuddering, sobbing as pleasure shoots through her body, clenching around his fingers like she never wants them to leave her.

Benedict says nothing as she comes down from her high, opening her eyes as her breathing slowly returns to normal. He slips his fingers from her, and she can see them glistening with her juices in the moonlight.

He stands, and Eloise hurriedly pulls her dress back down to her ankles.

“That was—”

“Amazing?”

“Satisfactory.”

Benedict snorts. “Still think you don’t need a husband?”

“What do I need a husband for when I have you?”


End file.
